Work Space
by avi-chuka x
Summary: Shuichi lovingly explores Yuki's study.


Disclaimer: I don't own Gravitation! ...Duh.

Pairing: ShuxYuki

Author's Note: This has an open setting, as far as the canon chain of events are concerned. You'll probably get the feel that it's later in the relationship though.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

**-Work Space-**

"Yuki?" The door gives a treacherous little squeak towards the end as I gently nudge it open. I absolutely love the way it smells here. We've moved into two new apartments over the last two years, and both times it had only been a matter of days before the amber eyed novelist's scent permeated into the very walls. Stale coffee, MGD beer, and the toxic yumminess of cigarette smoke, coiling together around the base of his dolce and gabana cologne. It's so much sweeter than the smells of the bedroom, where our respective scents clash, strawberry shampoo, and cinnamon air freshener, and the ever present undercurrent of sex.

Tentatively I step inside, my bare feet hitting the hard wood floor that peeks around the faded blue carpet Yuki always lays down in his studies. Stripes of afternoon sunlight pour in, making the wood hot, and the carpet buttery warm. I step all the way inside -past the signs written in hastily scribbled kanji 'WORKING, DO NOT DISTURB; NO BRATS ALLOWED; GO AWAY BAKA; careful to step lightly so the floor doesn't creak, and alert it's grumpy master. The pale blue walls are bare aside from the mountainous, overflowing book shelf of novels and high caliber magazine article collections. It was a very lovely creamy kind of greenish blue, and had been that way when we moved in. All of the other rooms were a pale yellow, almost white, and horribly plain. I had begged Yuki for days to allow me to paint a room, just one room rose pink, and he had allowed me a single wall in the guest bathroom. In the distance I hear the pipes rumble and water begin to beat heavily out of the shower head. He's in the bathroom in _our_ bedroom. Aaaallll the way on the other side of the penthouse.

I smile and close the door behind me, before padding over to Yuki's desk. My eyes travel over the cracked leather swivel chair. The smell of him intensifies. It's burned into the bovine skin, thanks to hours and hours of non stop contact. I run my fingertips over the armrests. And it swivels around to face me. I want to sit in it, but then again I don't. Because he'll know. He always knows. And I want us to be friends tonight. I check on the little green and orange lights on his lab top to make sure it's off, then run my hands along the keys. Several letters are beginning to fade, like A, S, E, H, L, and N. The left 'Shift' key has developed ridges, and dips a little from being hit so frequently. My smile broadens as I imagine Yuki's hands covered in little black letters. They're lost, and they're afraid, because they can't find their keyboard family. When Yuki washes his hands, they spill down the drain, and start off on a magical, but dangerous adventure to find their way home...maybe Yuki could write a story like that. A children's...nah. He would never write a story like that. If A and S had an affair, and made E so jealous he killed S, and A never forgave him, then _maybe_ Yuki would consider it.

Beside the computer there is a singed yellow ashtray, overflowing with cigarette butts and half smoked cigarettes. When he gets annoyed, or frustrated, or nervous, he'll stub one that he hasn't finished, and light another. There are also torn bits of printer paper, with little notes scribbled on them, like 'Amber drives a 1998 sedan. There's a dent above the left rear tire', and 'Hibiki only drinks mimosa's. Recovered/ing alcoholic?'

There's a little green trash can on the right side, overflowing with stacks and stacks of printed out manuscript snippets that had not made the cut. I reach for them, then stop. That's too bold a maneuver. Maybe one night when he's drunk I'll take a peek... 'Naughty, naughty Shuichi. Snooping is bad, na no da!' Heh. In absence of the real thing, Ryuichi talks in my head, now. Or was that Kumagoro?

In the distance I hear the water coming from the shower trickle to a stop. That was a quick shower...how long have I been standing here? Quickly I make my way back to the door, and slip out. He'll never know. About four or five minutes later when he emerges in a cloud of mist, and very masculine smelling soap that makes my nose twinge, I'm sitting innocently on the couch, a strawberry crunch bar melting in my mouth, the remote control in my hand. He's naked from the waist up, and water glints across his immaculate body, as he towel dries his equally perfect blonde tresses.

"Hi Yuki!" I chirrup happily, before plunging my tongue into the vanilla ice cream of my candy coated treat.

"Did you break anything, brat?"

"Hm?" I frown at his little growl. He comes to sit beside me, the towel abandoned around his neck, and takes the remote control.

"In my study. When I go in there, is anything gonna be broken?"

I smile, momentarily distracted by the way the Japanese curls, and claws, and escapes from his mouth when he pretends to be annoyed. You'd think after two years such things wouldn't be so fascinating, but I swear, every time he speaks, it's like hearing his voice for the first time. Well...not _every _time. Probably only times like now, when he's squeaky clean, and dripping with smell good, and trying for all the world to hide the fact that he's in a really, really, good mood.

Slowly, I smile.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

-------------------------------------------------------

Yay, my first Gravi fic. -cartwheels- Please read and review! Any and all feedback is welcome, and appreciated. I may work this into a full length story.


End file.
